Pining for Petunia
by Lowlands Girl
Summary: [Pre HBP] Written for the 2005 Valentine's Challenge on Sentence was: Cornelius Fudge pines for Petunia Dursley.


**Pining for Petunias**  
_by_ The Eighth Weasley

It was a surprisingly normal door, Fudge thought, staring at it as he raised his left hand to rap sharply on it. It was painted white, with a few squares of glass at eye level, a brass knocker with a simple filigree design and a small bulb at the bottom of the curve, and a large brass number four that gleamed in the setting sun.

It was a surprisingly normal house, too. Squattish, squarish, and of a size and proportion which more or less exactly failed to please the eye. The garden out front was well-maintained, if slightly parched, but extremely Muggle.

Harry Potter lived here?

Fudge rapped on the door, four sharp knocks which slowed as they progressed.

The outline of a thin woman appeared, rippled by the glass. He watched her draw near, peer curiously through the peephole, then open the door.

"Hello?" she asked.

Fudge blinked. His mouth flopped around at loose ends. His right big toe began to twitch, and his left armpit became very sweaty.

"Good evening," he said, after regaining bodily control. He swept off his bowler hat, which had recently been re-dyed to a brilliant green, and bowed politely to her.

"Can I help you?" she asked, rather snappishly. Her eyes traveled up and down his body, making Fudge feel extremely exposed. He'd put on Muggle pants for this excursion, and they certainly were strange.

"My name is Cornelius Fudge," he said, extending a hand. She didn't take it. "I'm the Minister for Magic."

Immediately her face became hard and cold. "We don't want your kind here," she hissed, and made to close the door.

"Quite understandable," he said, trying to be sauve. "I wouldn't blame you, if I'd had Harry Potter living with me."

She looked genuinely stunned, and stood up a little straighter.

"I have some things to discuss wtih you," he continued, trying to keep his eyes off the curve of her breasts, which tilted up slightly in the low-cut dress she wore.

"What sort of... things?" she whispered, glancing left and right down the street, as though afraid of listeners.

"If I might come in?"

She reluctantly nodded, then stepped back to let him in, closing the door behind him.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I've caught your name yet?" he said with sweaty palms.

"Petunia Dursley," she replied.

"What a lovely name," he breathed.

"Really."

Perhaps that was laying it on a bit thick. Really, she was quite an extraordinary woman. Staying so thin must have taken her willpower, and putting up with that wretched Potter brat? He couldn't help but admire her.

"What do you need to talk to me about?" Petunia led him into the drawing room, which was very tastefully decorated in pastels and whites, with lots of photographs on the mantelpiece of the most adorable boy.

"Is that your son?" Fudge asked, going over to look more closely at one.

"Yes," she said, and her expression softened slighly. "That's my Dudders... Dudley, I mean. He's at school this time of year."

"Quite the strapping young lad."

"Junior Heavyweight Boxing Champion of the Southeast."

"Boxing... oh, yes, boxing." Fudge didn't know what it was, but thought it best to pretend.

"What did you come here to discuss with me, Minister?" she asked impatiently, seating herself gracefully in one of the armchairs.

"Call me Cornelius," Fudge replied, taking the chair nearest her. "Harry, of course." When she looked angry again, he quickly said, "I just wanted to find out from his guardians how unstable he is... We've had some ... problems ... with him telling lies and spreading rumors about... well, spreading rumors. Destructive rumors that could possibly be considered treason--"

"He's horrid," said Petunia at once. "Insolent, looks just like his father, takes pride in baiting poor Dudders, and always flaunts how different he is. Wretched, ungrateful child. I hate having him around."

"I see," said Fudge sympathetically. "Do go on."

Petunia ranted, and Fudge listened with half an ear. Oh, what he wouldn't give to kiss that beautiful mouth, to cradle her delicate body in his strong arms! And that lovely voice! He could listen to it for hours, even if he never heard what it really said. Pity she was married. Her face was rapt as she recounted the horror of some incident when "the boy" had come home with his cousin in a horrible fit, raving about Dementors -- Fudge snorted. So he'd tried it on the Muggles, too. He watched Petunia's eyes glowing, her hands flitting like squirrels, and knew he was hopelessly in love.

But of course he could never tell her.

"Thank you for your time, Petunia," he said half an hour later, when she'd finally run out of breath. "I appreciate your input, and I'm sure it will make a difference in how we pursue discipline."

"I don't want that boy back here," she said warningly. "If you can find a way to make him stay at that school, that'll be best."

The two of them got up from the armchairs, and Fudge let her lead him to the door. Nice arse, he thought, watching the skinny hips gyrate. What he wouldn't give to bend her over that chair and... Down, Fudge-meister, he told himself firmly, and plastered a smile on his face as they reached the door.

"Really, Petunia, thanks ever so much for your time," he said politely, and tried to smile winningly.

She gave him a curt nod and snapped the door shut.

Fudge sighed and went down the walk. What a lovely garden she kept! He looked around at the drab neighborhood, reflecting that this was the nicest house of all.

He sighed again, and Disapparated.

_--fin--_


End file.
